


A Heart of Stone

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Derek is Olgierd von Everec, F/F, Immortal Derek Hale, Lord Derek Hale, Lord Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mage Lydia, Stiles is Iris von Everec, Temporary Character Death, Witcher Allison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22063039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: Some monsters are born, others are made.~*~Stiles closed his eyes tightly. “Please, I need to see him,” he pleaded. “I wish to see him—to look into his eyes once more.”Stiles thoughts were loudly rushing around them both, memories and thoughts that had nothing but the estate’s walls to hear them for so long. But the last part was clearest for Allison to hear.Derek, I wish to be with Derek. And to gaze into his eyes … those eyes that the devil would be proud to have.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 377





	A Heart of Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kilaem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilaem/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Meg! Have another wonderfully angsty Witcher au, inspired and based off of your lovely artwork <3
> 
> Original art can be found on Meg's tumblr: [here](https://kilaem.tumblr.com/post/174070529529). It is based off of the Witcher 3's DLC Hearts of Stone, the story about Olgierd and Iris von Everec. Except it's a happy ending ...

Allison wasn’t sure what to expect from it. She was more annoyed than anything else. She had been distracted by the Lady of Glass for long enough, and now she was sidetracked by her promise to help along Derek von Hale’s wishes. She wished she had never accepted the Lady’s offer, knowing she wouldn’t get out of it so easy.

But she now knew that Derek was something otherworldly, completely consumed by a curse that rendered the man unkillable.

Allison was puzzled when she returned to the house set afire. She saw the young woman weeping on the steps of the house, the maiden’s body thrown over a dead man’s chest as she sobbed. She had stumbled into an argument, Derek yelling at one of the men before dismissing him from his sight completely.

That was when the woman, overcome with grief, took up the slain man’s weapon.

Allison stumbled forward to stop the maiden from rushing Derek. She had been shocked when no one made a move to protect their leader—even Derek barely reacted when the woman ran him through with the sword.

Derek took a step backwards, catching his balance. He looked, emotionless, at the woman before his eyes turned down to the sword’s hilt. He observed the thing as if it was a minor inconvenience for not completing its job.

“You’re not dead,” Allison state in interest as she watched Derek pull the sword from his body.

The sword had pierced Derek’s chest, the blade running through where Derek’s heart should have been.

“Not dying doesn’t mean I’m living,” Derek answered Allison’s questioning words, slowly removing the remains of the sword from his body. He dropped the sword, pausing a moment as he waited for his body to regenerate. “You need to be careful for what you wish for—there are always consequences for your desires.” His hand gestured towards the closing wound in his chest, uttering, “Consequence.”

“You find your immortality to be a consequence,” Allison commented, her tone unsure what Derek was trying to convey.

“I don’t die, true, but as I said, it doesn’t mean I live,” Derek replied.

Allison narrowed her gaze at Derek. “What are you?”

“A man frozen in time,” Derek hollowly answered, drawing his sword up from the ground, placing it back into the sheath fixed to his belt. He could sense Allison filling in the gaps herself.

“Did you know the beast would turn into a human?” The witcher finally questioned.

“Of course he did, darling,” a female voice broke into their conversation.

Derek looked unamused by the new presence. He turned to look at the woman, his bitterness twisting deep in his stomach when he saw her face illuminated in the glow of the house’s blaze behind him. “Julia Baccari,” he lowly uttered. “I thought I heard a rat.”

Julia laughed loudly.

Allison looked at Julia, an uneasy chill running down her spine at seeing the woman again. There was always an unsettling in her chest whenever she saw the woman. Something haunting, and familiar.

“What are you doing here, Julia?” Derek grumbled. “Or do you go by a different name now?”

“I’ve come to collect, sweetheart,” Julia stated with a sickly smile. “You still haven’t paid for your gifts yet.”

“Kind of you, calling them gifts,” Derek snapped at her.

“So it’s true then? You did know the toad was a human?” Allison demanded, not caring for the show. She had hoped Julia was lying when she told her about Derek manipulating the details to get her to accept the contract. “I don’t like being twisted into murder.”

“He didn’t just know, Allison,” Julia started with a smile. “He brought the curse about. And what a tale it is.” She looked to Derek, a sparkle in her eyes. “Oh, no, he didn’t tell you, did he?” She continued with a knowing smile. “Allow me the pleasure.”

A malicious giggle left Julia, the sound warped and dark.

“Derek once loved a beautiful young lord named Mieczysław,” Julia uttered with a twisted smile. “Yet, Mieczysław’s aunt and uncle chose to offer his hand to a foreign princess—despite poor Mieczysław’s tears. And Derek grew to hate the unlucky princess.” She started to pace through the rain around them, her steps slow and calculated as she circled Derek.

Allison looked at Derek, seeing for the first time a hint of emotion. She recognized the anger twitching at his features as Derek tried hard to cover it up. Vulnerability, and guilt.

“At first, Derek wanted to kill the princess, but then decided that it would be too simple—messy, but simple,” Julia continued. “So instead, Derek called upon powers greater than his own, and cursed the woman to a base life in a toad’s twisted and bloated corpus.” She smiled as she turned to look at Derek. “Though it appears he’s grown tired of watching her suffer—wanted it to end, so he decided to use you to do it.”

“Remind me, Julia,” Derek quickly uttered, stopping Julia’s twisted words, his voice tight and pinched to keep his anger in check. “Who is to fulfill my last three requests?”

Julia’s smile faltered some. “Allison,” she said as she gestured towards the witcher.

“Then be gone,” Derek commanded of Julia. “I don’t want to have to look at you longer than I must.”

Julia paused before giving Derek a faint bow, taking her leave of the situation.

Allison turned to watch Julia leave, her gaze narrowing at the woman.

Allison could place her after all. She had seen her before, lingering about Allison’s original ancestral home before the school of witcher took her in. She had seen the woman conversing with Gerard, conversations hidden in hushed whispers and behind closed doors.

If Allison wasn’t mistaken, Julia had yet to age a day in the decades that passed.

“You’ve become a madwoman’s fool,” Derek announced.

Allison looked back at Derek. She made a point to gesture widely at the burning home behind Derek. “And I’ve made a deal to wipe away my debt by helping a lunatic, it seems.”

Derek turned to look at the flames, unfazed when one of the main beams yawned loudly before crashing down into the roaring fire. “Where I’m from, it’s poor hospitality to deny a visitor basic courtesies.”

“You overtook this man’s home, and cry foul when he denies you run of the house,” Allison countered.

“The man stole from me,” Derek concluded. “Poor judgement, considering I had been paying him already,” he turned to look at Allison. “Tell me, when was the last time you allowed someone to go unpunished.”

Allison remained silent, refusing to play a part in Derek’s game.

“Regardless of what you think about this,” Derek started, taking a few steps towards Allison as to close the distance between them. “You have three wishes to fulfill, witcher. I suggest you start them.”

Allison narrowed her eyes at Derek. “Tell me where to start.”

~*~

Derek’s requests were outlandish and next to impossible.

The house of Deucalion Borsodi. An evening of revelry for his elder sister. And the third was a mystery, something to be revealed once Allison managed to complete the first two.

Allison had managed to get the deed for Deucalion’s house, nearly losing her head with the backstabbing. She had an even more unfriendly brush with Laura von Hale, her spirit making it next to impossible for Allison once she learned what was happening—Allison was grateful when Laura offered her a letter to give to Derek, something to prove that she finished her goal.

But Laura warned her of the truth to come.

“Julia Baccari isn’t someone to meddle with,” Laura warned when midnight approached. “My brother was a proud fool when it came to Mieczysław.” She sighed, looking out at the wedding party. “Our family is an old one that reached back further than most history books. We had power and plenty of gold to our liking. But our uncle pissed it all away,” she bitterly explained. “Needless to say, Mieczysław’s aunt and uncle didn’t want their meal ticket to marry a penniless heir to a fallen name. Our luck had soured, leaving us to be outcasts, and Mieczysław’s family wouldn’t have him marry a nobody.”

“Why not elope?” Allison asked. “If Mieczysław loved Derek the way you say—”

“Matches between those of the same sex are tolerated by the elite,” Laura stated in annoyance. “Mieczysław’s aunt and uncle would allow it, because of the von Hale name, and wealth. But when we lost everything … well, they barred Mieczysław in his room, threatened him with beatings should he try to contact Derek again. They scrambled to send him overseas, to that foreign princess who had more husbands than you could fucking believe.”

Allison looked at Laura. “That’s why Derek made a deal with Julia,” she concluded.

“He tried to make gold a different way,” Laura replied, looking at Allison. “He worked until his knuckles bled, unlike his back ached beyond repair—it wasn’t enough. He eventually turned to banditry when honest work couldn’t yield enough coin, realizing that our name was beyond tarnished already that all he needed was enough gold to make his future with Mieczysław a possibility. I helped him, but it wasn’t enough to change the minds of others. We had nothing anymore.” She shook her head. “He lost everything all over again when he heard about Mieczysław being sent away.”

“So Derek cursed this foreign princess for stealing Mieczysław away,” Allison added.

Laura shook her head. “Our family has always been an interest of Julia Baccari’s. She has some wager, one she made with our original ancestors—to own a soul from each generation of von Hale. She’s wanted our souls for so long, but she also loves a challenge. And Derek … well, Derek was a challenge for her.” She looked at Allison, sorrow in her features. “Derek was angry one night—the last night before Mieczysław was to leave for that new land. He yelled out his frustrations, cursing the stars and destiny for taking Stiles away from him. And Julia … she twisted it, grabbing onto it. And in Derek’s grief, he accepted what Julia had to offer. She gave him a way to be with Mieczysław, and when it came time for her payment …”

Allison nodded. “Nothing can be given without something being taken.”

“She took Derek’s heart,” Laura elaborated. “Robbed him of emotion, told him that was the price for having Mieczysław by his side, for eternity. Julia Baccari grants what you wish, not what you want. All those that sign her pacts learn the difference, and then die by it.”

“So Derek lost his heart, and ceased to feel anything—especially love,” Allison stated.

“He tried, like a fool, to make another deal with Julia,” Laura explained, sighing deeply.

It was right before she had died—she witnessed her brother’s desperate attempts to contact Julia once more. She had a feeling Julia accepted Derek’s attempts at conversation after her death. There was only one von Hale after that, and Julia needed to have Derek’s soul in order to win her bet.

“And is this new deal the one I’m completing now?” Allison questioned.

“I would imagine so,” Laura replied. “Three wishes are to be met, and Derek will give Julia his soul in return.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I imagine Derek made this deal as a way to get back at Julia. He thinks she’ll be unable to give him what he truly wants.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m afraid the only person who knows that is Derek,” Laura replied, looking up at Allison. “But you said Mieczysław was not with him when you met him … I can only imagine it has to do with him.”

“Is there any way to lift Julia’s curse on Derek’s heart?” Allison asked. “Perhaps if he could feel, that would make him see reason in all this.”

“One doesn’t outwit the Lady of Glass,” Laura warned. “You must take shelter in the reflection that does not break, for it’s not a mirror she can control. Remember that.”

Allison carefully looked at Laura.

“My brother is a good man,” Laura pressed. “Even good men can be driven to insanity should love be involved.”

“He loved Mieczysław but left him,” Allison countered.

“No,” Laura argued. “He loved Mieczysław, and I imagine that’s why he left,” she corrected Allison. “Without his heart, he couldn’t be the man Mieczysław loved.” She folded the parchment into Allison’s hands. “Bring that letter to my brother, along with the deed. And he’ll give you his final wish.”

“I happen to think this final wish has to do with Mieczysław, doesn’t it?” Allison questioned.

“As all things do when it comes to Derek,” Laura replied.

~*~

Derek stared down at the letter Allison had handed him. He knew Laura’s penmanship, and her teasing even better. He couldn’t deny that Allison had managed to do the impossible in two cases. He dared to let himself hope that she’d succeed in the final task. Maybe Stiles had kept the flower—maybe Stiles would renounce the flower, along with his love for Derek.

And then Stiles would truly be free from the torment Derek brought him.

“I’ve done what you’ve asked,” Allison stated, her tone annoyed. It was taking longer than she wanted to complete the tasks, Julia’s mark on her face still burning. “Now give me your third wish.”

Derek folded Laura’s letter, slipping it into his pocket for safe keeping.

“I had a … a lover, once—society wouldn’t let me call him my husband, but he was, in all but title,” Derek explained. “The day I saw him last, I gave him a rose—a violet one.” He moved to stand, walking away from Allison. “I wish to see that bloom again.”

Allison stared at Derek’s retreating back. “That’s impossible—the flower will have wilted by now.”

“You wished to hear a wish, master witcher,” Derek replied as he paused by the doorway. He turned his eyes to half observe her.

“At least tell me where he is,” Allison pressed.

Derek released a heavy sigh. “Our old manor,” he finally offered as he turned the rest of the way to look at Allison. “He still resides there, my promise to never return made it his home.” He looked away from the witcher, shaking his head. “I would wish you a safe journey, but I think you understand why I won’t.”

“Is there anything I should say to Mieczysław?” Allison pointedly questioned, not at all surprised when Derek stopped in his tracks.

Derek turned back to look at Allison, a sharp anger in his gaze.

“So you do have a heart still,” Allison almost mocked. “At least enough to grow angry when someone mentions your beloved.”

Derek turned his entire body towards Allison. “Are you attempting to goad me into a fight, witcher?”

Allison folded her arms over her chest. “I want the truth,” she answered. “I want to know why you no longer have Mieczysław with you, if you’ve done all this for him.”

Derek’s hand tightened into a fist against the doorframe he leaned against.

“Did he cheat on you?”

“Never,” Derek lowly answered.

“Did he turn into a disappointment, then?” Allison pressed, baiting Derek with harsh words about Mieczysław.

“Watch your tongue,” Derek warned.

“You want me to fix this,” Allison countered. “I need to know why—”

“Stiles is safe there!” Derek snapped at her. “He’ll always be safest, the farther away I am,” he elaborated in a calmer tone.

This outburst was the first sliver of emotion Derek dared show, and Allison wondered what powers Mieczysław must hold over Derek. “I’m guessing Stiles is a nickname for Mieczysław, then,” Allison simply commented.

“A nickname he prefers to his birth name,” Derek gruffly replied. “It comes from his father’s last name—it was a way to keep him alive with him.”

Allison nodded. “You know, that’s the most you’ve told me about one of these wishes—I think that’s a new record for you.”

Derek glowered at Allison. “Get going if you want to save your skin, witcher.”

“What happened to Stiles, Derek?” Allison asked instead. “Why is he at the manor now? Why would you even want anything to do with him if you can’t feel?”

Derek was silent for a beat. “Because I know I should love him—” he quietly admitted, a soft pain in his voice. “That I  _ did  _ love him. And he deserves better than all that I’ve done—than what I’ve become.”

Allison carefully watched Derek. “Tell me what it’s like having a heart of stone,” she inquired.

Derek looked at Allison. “It’s … wonderful, at first,” he honestly admitted. “You feel no fear or angst—but then, you stop feeling concern, or care, for anyone. Even those you love.” His thoughts flew to Stiles and the life they had been working towards—the life he had promised Stiles to they would have. And then the cold emptiness he felt whenever he looked at Stiles—the pain of having his love ripped from him. It was agony to know what it felt like to not love Stiles the way he had. “And then, you gradually lose those loves.”

“Is that what happened to Stiles?” Allison questioned.

Derek shook his head. “Go to the manor, witcher,” he instructed her with a solemn tone. “Stiles will tell you what happened—I believe he’s the last of the truth in this world.”

~*~

Allison could tell the villagers were being extremely cautious in regard to her the moment she rode into the main part of the village.

Children stared up at Allison in awe, some stopped in the midst of their game, dropping the knuckle bones they were all determined to snatch up.

Allison dismounted from her horse, turning an eye towards the tavern where more than one person spoke in hushed whispers about her. She walked towards the village’s requisition board, her eyes flickering over the various posters nailed to the aging wood. She felt the pair of eyes on her before the voice questioned her.

“Are you here for the lord?”

Allison turned to look at the owner of the voice, finding a young girl perplexing staring up at her. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to face the girl. “The lord,” she stated, arching an eyebrow at the girl’s enthusiastic nodding. “Why would I be here for the lord?”

“Granny said you’d be coming,” the girl stated.

Allison frowned at that. “Granny seems well informed,” she remarked.

“Granny said that only a witcher could help the lord,” the girl continued. “That he’d never leave that manor otherwise.”

Allison’s interests peaked at the mention of a manor. “Which manor?”

“The von Hale manor,” the girl stated. “The lord doesn’t leave—he looks out the window a lot, but never leaves. And anyone who goes into the manor never comes back out.”

Allison knew she was in the right village.

“He’s been there since Granny was a young girl,” the girl continued. “You’re not going to hurt him, are you?”

Allison was intrigued by the girl’s question. “Why should that matter?”

“He’s sad,” the girl replied. “He’s waiting for his lord to come back to him.”

Allison turned to look around them, taking note of the apparent wealth in the village. She was curious if the village benefited from Derek’s exploits. She saw no hungry faces, despite the remnants of war she had passed on her way through the winding trails leading her here. She could tell the villagers wore clothes nicer than what most typical villagers would own. “When was the last time Derek von Hale was here?”

The girl pursed her lips some. “Granny said he’s been gone longer than her childhood. Whatever that means.”

“Louisa!”

The girl startled, turning to look at who yelled her name.

Allison looked at the woman who shouted at the girl.

“You shouldn’t be talking to her,” the woman scolded.

Louisa made a face at the woman’s stern words. “But Granny said—”

“I don’t care what that witch said,” the woman countered, marching over to Louisa and taking her by the arm.

Louisa struggled some despite being unable to escape the woman’s grasp. She looked up at Allison as she dug her heels into the mud. “Granny lives down the road!” She exclaimed.

Allison turned to look at the road Louisa pointed to. She waved her thanks to the girl, hoping the woman would leave Louisa alone once she was out of sight.

~*~

The cottage was on top of a small hill, nestled into the side of a banking where a fenced in garden bloomed. There were herbs and flowers scattered across the area, something akin to an alchemist’s or healer’s stores.

Allison knocked on the cottage’s door, awaiting a response.

“I don’t typically get visitors,” a voice answered Allison’s knock from around the side of the house.

Allison walked towards the voice, surprised to find a young woman kneeling in a bed of herbs.

The woman’s red hair was loosely braided to keep from her face, strands of hair falling over her shoulder as she worked on picking the herbs and placing them in her basket. She turned her gaze over her shoulder to look at Allison. Her hazel eyes looked Allison over, taking in her appearance before turning back to her herbs. “You’re a witcher,” she plainly stated. “Can’t say I expected a witcher to visit me.”

Allison watched the woman with interest. “I’m looking for a woman,” she started.

“Well, that’s not a disappointment then,” the woman replied. “It’d be a shame if you weren’t.”

Allison released a small laugh. “I didn’t mean in that manner,” she replied. “Though, I’d have to admit that I agree with you.”

The woman looked at Allison once more. She smiled at her. “Then what brings you to my home, witcher?”

“I need to talk with someone the children call Granny,” Allison explained.

The woman’s features fell some. “They’re fond of that nickname,” she sighed, moving to stand up. She brushed her hands against the folds of her skirts, taking her time as she walked by Allison.

The smell of strawberries overwhelmed Allison’s senses when the woman passed her, the wolf medallion hummed against Allison’s chest with the close proximity. A palpable image of spring turning to summer, tartly sweet berries and freshly cut wheat mixing with the warmth of the sun.

“You’re a sorceress,” Allison simply stated.

The woman didn’t appear surprised by Allison’s observation. “I go by Lydia,” she answered. “Do me a favor, grab my basket,” she offhandedly stated as she entered the cottage.

Allison looked at the basket, shaking her head as she grabbed the handle and followed Lydia into the cottage.

Lydia was busy stirring the pot hanging over the fire. She gestured behind her for Allison to drop the basket on the table.

“The children call you Granny,” Allison started, placing the basket down on the table before turning to look at Lydia. “I can’t say I expected to find—” she paused, cutting the compliment off.

Lydia arched an eyebrow at Allison, a sly smile on her lips as if to note that she knew exactly what Allison would say. “I live out here to avoid unwanted looks,” she offered in explanation to Allison. “Though I can’t say yours are unwanted.” She took a few steps towards Allison, reaching a hand out to touch the mark burned into Allison’s temple. She paused when she felt the magic there. “I can’t say I’ve seen this before,” she curiously stated.

Allison’s eyes tracked Lydia’s movements, hesitating when she reached for the mark the Lady of Glass had left there—to be removed at the woman’s own convenience. “It’s why I’m here.”

Lydia frowned at that. “Well, I can’t do anything about it.”

“No, not the mark,” Allison sighed. “I meant I’m here to try and break it. But I need to get to the von Hale manor.”

Lydia’s features twisted at the mention of the manor. “Leave, and don’t even think of going there, witcher.”

“Allison,” she replied. She grabbed Lydia’s arm when she tried to turn from her. “I don’t plan on harming Lord von Hale,” she explained, refusing to relinquish her hold on Lydia despite the other woman’s attempt to get away from her. “I just need the rose Derek left him.”

Lydia stopped struggling, her arm going lax in Allison’s grip. “You don’t know?” She sorrowfully asked.

Allison frowned. “I need to complete three tasks for Derek von Hale,” she explained. “He asked for the rose that he gave his husband,” she paused when Lydia recoiled the moment Derek’s name was spoken. “I know it’s been a while, but if he dried the flower, it might still ...” she stopped when Lydia scoffed.

Lydia shook her head. “That wasn’t years ago,” she corrected Allison. “It’s been almost a hundred years since Derek von Hale stepped foot in that manor.”

Allison shook her head. “That’s impossible,” she argued.

“You’ve met Derek,” Lydia corrected her. “Do you honestly think that a man incapable of dying could not also be ageless?”

Allison released a heavy breath of annoyance. “Stiles must know something about the flower that I could give Derek.” Her brow furrowed when Lydia only stared at her. “What?”

Lydia folded her arms against her chest, almost in a protective manner. “Stiles is … he’s no longer on this plane,” she stated. “He hasn’t been for decades.”

“Derek thinks he’s alive,” Allison countered.

“Then Derek should have stayed with him,” Lydia snapped. She shook her head, “Forgive my tone, it’s not your fault.”

Allison looked at Lydia. “You had feelings for Stiles?”

Lydia laughed. “I loved Siles—like a brother. I cared for him in Derek’s absence, but … ” She looked away from Allison. “It wasn’t enough. He died of a broken heart. I didn’t get to bury him before the damn demon tried to tear me apart.” She moved to sit in the chair by the hearth. “I’ve warned away anyone who attempts to go there, but the ones I can’t usually end up dead or petrified speechless by what they find there.” She looked up at Allison. “I won’t have a witcher hurting him.”

Allison shook her head. “You misunderstand my reasoning for visiting the manor,” she offered. “I want to help Stiles, if I can.”

Lydia relented, finally nodding. “The manor is down the path that leads into the forest. Follow it until the fork in the road by the large oak. Keep left, and you’ll find the manor.”

Allison nodded, “Thank you.”

“Do what you can for him,” Lydia urged. “He’s kind—kinder than the rest.” She fondly remembered the times she had visited Stiles, but that was before his marriage to Derek had started to crumble apart. “He’s hurting, and I dare say Derek may be the only one capable of ending such pain.”

“You must truly care about him,” Allison commented. “You’re more helpful than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m also not an ancient hag, like so many in the village would tell you,” Lydia replied.

“Before I leave, I have to ask,” Allison started, glad when Lydia arched her brows in question. “If the children visit you, why are you called Granny?”

Lydia laughed. “The children call me Granny because they know I’m older than all in this village.” She shrugged as she continued, “And because the village elder was just a boy when I snubbed his offer of marriage, there are various tales to be told about me.”

“Cute,” Allison deadpanned.

Lydia smiled at that. She looked out the window, seeing the sun practically disappeared. “It will be dark soon,” she stated. “You could stay.”

Allison looked at Lydia.

“I don’t mind sharing,” Lydia charmingly offered.

“Tales caution me against it,” Allison replied.

“Tales caution  _ men _ ,” Lydia answered. “Because I chase  _ men  _ away with fireballs,” she explained as she stepped into Allison’s space. “But women,” she thoughtfully uttered. “That is a different tale entirely,” she smirked as she settled her hands on Allison’s hips. “Would a witcher, brave and bold, be willing to spend the night with such a fearsome witch?” She teased.

~*~

Lydia’s hands traced different scars on Allison’s body, pressing kisses against the grooved skin. “You should be careful, the Lady of Glass is involved,” she mentioned, knowing that Allison had plans to leave no that the rooster had crowed a third time. “They call her Mistress of Mirrors for a reason—she reflects what you want most before vanishing when you aren’t looking.”

“You’re telling me this why?” Allison asked, her hand tracing the Quen sign against the naked skin of Lydia’s hip, a precautionary shield she hoped would last well beyond the day should Julia come after Lydia.

“If you’re helping Derek, it’s because of her,” Lydia answered. “And if she’s involved, I feel as if that mark on your face is her doing. She grants what you say, not what you want. Remember that she twists words to suit herself.”

Allison huffed out, “You’re as smart as you are beautiful.”

Lydia laughed as she placed a kiss to the scar just below Allison’s collarbone. “And you haven’t seen what magic I can do yet.” She faintly moaned when Allison directed her into a shared kiss, pliant as she allowed Allison to press her down into the bed. She hooked her leg around Allison’s hip, an attempt to keep her there.

Allison opened into their kiss, her fingers threading through Lydia’s hair as their kiss deepened. She tasted the sweet berries she had smelled earlier, finding Lydia’s very essence encompassed in the scent.

“You should stay,” Lydia softly spoke against Allison’s lips.

“If I only I could,” Allison replied. She ran her hand along the curve of Lydia’s hips, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before moving to get out of the bed.

Lydia sighed, allowing Allison to get up. She curled against the pillow, annoyed at the chill she now had without Allison’s warmth.

“Come back, won’t you?” Lydia requested as she turned onto her side to look at Allison. She watched as Allison went about securing her armor, a smile playfully pulling at her lips as she stretched some when Allison looked back at her. She curved her back, pulling the sheets just so to tauntingly reveal the curve of her breast and span of her belly, a tantalizing offer for Allison to know what she was leaving behind.

“An impossible offer to refuse,” Allison replied, taking a step closer to kiss Lydia once more.

Lydia curled her hand around the back of Allison’s neck, deepening their kiss once more. She pouted when Allison pulled away, licking her bottom lip to feel the faint reminder of Allison nipping at her lips earlier.

“I will be back, when I’ve settled accounts,” Allison promised, annoyed at herself for not having the time to spend the day wrapped up in bed with Lydia.

“I like you, witcher,” Lydia sleepily murmured into her pillow as she tried to get comfortable once more. “Don’t die,” she sighed.

~*~

Allison found her way into the manor with minor difficulty. She had been intrigued by the caretaker guardian she came across—the hostility and brutality of the creature making it less sentient than it at first appeared. She was perplexed by the cat and dog companions, knowing that she had stepped outside the realm of reality when they spoke to her. Regardless, she took it all in stride, following them into the house in search of a meeting with Stiles.

Allison found herself lingering in a portrait like world, one that replayed the memories of a life lived between Derek and Stiles. The story began to unfold for her, telling her the tale of how the young couple’s lives fell apart.

“Strange place,” Allison commented as she reached a hand out to touch the painted strokes of the environment around her.

“One born from Mieczysław von Hale’s dreams,” the shade of the dog replied, turning to sit beside Allison.

“It only existed in his mind while he lived,” the cat’s shade explained. “Now it has grown into full fruition—these are memories that our master wishes to forget. Memories painted into a reality that play for him time and time again.”

Allison frowned. “So I have to watch them, as he relives them in an undying loop.” She was starting to understand why Lydia refused to come back here.

“That would appear to be so,” the dog tiredly answered.

~*~

Allison walked around the garden, watching scenes unfold of Stiles and Derek in loving embraces, some moments ruined by Derek’s sudden distracted nature. It was becoming apparent, with each passing memory, that Derek was consumed by a search for something in his books despite Stiles’ attempts to get his attention.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Stiles spoke in one memory.

Stiles was handsome. His features consisting of curved lips and sharp jawlines. His skin was pale, moles splattered across his complexion. His auburn hair unruly in length. But nothing compared to his eyes. A bourbon whiskey color, with the reflection of gold swirling in them—open and vulnerable to Derek’s every response.

“And I love you,” Derek answered, his voice more hollow than previously.

“Is that not enough then?” Stiles softly asked. He reached a hand out, taking Derek’s hand in a loving grasp. “I don’t need any more than that.”

Derek frowned as he looked down at their hands. “I don’t know,” he spoke without emotion. “I could have, once, lived like that. But now … I don’t know,” he explained.

“Am I not enough?” Stiles asked, his grip on Derek slipping.

Derek didn’t answer.

“You’re not the man I married,” Stiles’ voice echoed as the memory died out.

Allison took a step back as the room’s illusion faded, watching as the lavish aesthetic decayed and crumbled into the runned down state she had observed from outside the manor.

Broken beams and dusty cobwebs were scattered throughout the room. The manor truly reflected the fabled haunted house the villagers warned Allison against visiting. She was curious if the house itself allowed the memories to echo loudly through the night, warning off any potential thieves.

“Not what I expected,” Allison commented as she took a step into the bedroom, catching sight of the various broken pieces of furniture. She paused when she saw the unmade bed before her.

A figure was hunched over the bed, clothes pristine under the dust and cobwebs despite the time that had past. The body had decayed, mummified into the corpse it was.

“Is this him?” Allison asked the animal companions, taking a step towards the bed. She bent to the side in an attempt to see more of the person.

“Yes.”

The corpse was years old, a telling sign that the house’s disrepair likely followed after the death of its master. There were no wounds visible, the clothes still like new despite the years—as if it was just the body that aged, and not the material.

The corpse was all that was left of Mieczysław von Hale.

“How did he die?” Allison asked.

“His heart burst,” the dog simply replied.

“A heart attack?” Allison questioned, looking at the dog.

“No,” the dog huffed in an annoyed tone. “It  _ burst _ .”

“I find that hard to believe,” Allison answered.

“Whether you believe it or not, that’s what happened,” the dog countered.

“Then one day, after Derek had left, Stiles locked the front door, lay down here and … died,” the cat sorrowfully uttered. “From grief; from loneliness. It’s uncertain.”

“His spirit is restless then,” Allison concluded. “I wonder if Derek even knows he’s dead—I doubt he would have left Stiles’ body like this otherwise, even if the caretaker tried to stop him.” She looked at the animals, trying to determine if Lydia had known them or if they too were sudden additions to Stiles’ prison. “You were meant to keep him company, weren’t you?”

“Originally, our purpose was to prevent loneliness,” the cat countered.

“Derek made a vow to Stiles,” the dog answered.

“He would never step foot on this manor again, and Stiles could keep this home for himself,” the cat continued. “With us to keep him company.”

“It was his final gift to our master,” the dog commented. “And Derek tried to forget him, just as the master tried to bring Derek back.”

“They spoke such heated, harsh words to one another then,” the cat replied.

“Stiles wouldn’t even read the letter Derek sent,” the dog admitted. “He just took the rose, locked himself away with it until they both wilted.”

“Our master has experienced great hardship,” the cat warned Allison. “Lord von Hale is filled with rage and bitterness—hollowed out loneliness has been his companion for too long.”

“In the beginning, he prayed for Derek to return to him,” the dog explained. “How he loved to paint, trying to recreate their happier times, only to fail every time. Weeks turned into months, and then he stopped praying. He stopped eating, he stopped speaking. His last words were angry orders for that caretaker to leave him be for the rest of eternity.”

“How do I reach him, then?” Allison asked.

“You’ll have to put his soul to rest,” the cat explained. “We cannot reach him—Derek summoned us to keep Stiles company. But that cannot put him to rest.”

Allison looked at Stiles’ corpse, frowning. “His spirit is here … it doesn’t feel like he’s left his body, not really.”

“He was afraid of death,” the dog replied. “He feared no one would tend to his funeral.”

“Maybe I can bury him—draw him out that way,” Allison commented.

“Perhaps,” the cat uttered.

Allison noticed there was something clutched in the corpse’s hand. With ease, she slipped the wilted flower and stem from its resting place. “I’m guessing this is all that is left of the violet rose Derek gave him,” she sighed.

“Perhaps you could convince Stiles to gift you something similar to its original likeness,” the dog replied.

Allison turned to look at where the voice came from.

_ I once wished to know what was going on in your head… I thought I could help you. Now, I don’t care the slightest how you think or feel. And I no longer know if I still hate you. Go, Derek, I want you out of my sight. _

Allison turned to look at where the voice came from. She saw the flicker of shadow pass the door, following after it despite the dog and cat asking her to come back.

“You need to bury him,” the cat called after her.

Allison ignored them, following where the apparition was taking her. She knew a wraith when she saw one, but Stiles was something other—there was still life attached to his body.

~*~

“You swore a vow to me,” Derek started, his anger evident in his voice as the memory echoed.

“I swore a vow to the man I loved,” Stiles argued. “And the man I loved is  _ dead _ .”

“A vow once made isn’t so easily broken, Stiles,” Derek countered. He turned a sad gaze towards Stiles. “Trust me, I know.”

Stiles took a hesitant step towards Derek.

“Enough!” Stiles’ uncle snapped. “I’m taking Stiles with me, that is the end of this sick charade.”

Stiles flinched when his uncle grabbed his arm, yanking him away from Derek. It was a painful grip that caused Stiles to grimace.

“You’ll stay in this house, for eternity,” Derek quickly uttered, grabbing Stiles’ other arm, pulling him from his uncle’s grip.

“Derek,” Stiles frightfully gasped as he was snatched from his uncle’s hold. He fell against Derek’s chest, his hand gripping at Derek’s tunic. “Stop this,” he almost begged.

“How dare you—” Stiles’ uncle started. “You’re nothing but a ruffian, a fiend that never should have been entrusted with my nephew! Your gold and name are still tarnished, and now he’ll be ruined by this too!”

“Uncle, stop!” Stiles snapped at him, still clutching to Derek, even when his uncle grabbed him once more.

“He was nothing but an investment to you,” Derek lowly snarled at the man.

Stiles stumbled to the side when both men entered into a scuffle. “No!” He yelled as he turned back to them, too late when he saw Derek shoving his uncle back into the column. He watched in silent horror as his uncle’s eyes stayed open, blood spattered on the stone. He was obedient when Derek grabbed his hand, allowing himself to be pulled away from the scene before him.

Allison could hear voices echoing, heated words being spoken at barely audible levels. She could hear Derek’s last words:

_ I’ll grant you your wish—you’ll stay here and I’ll leave. Forever. _

“And then von Hale ceased to be human all together,” the cat uttered in explanation to Allison.

“He still loved his husband, though,” the dog stated.

“No, he knew that he was supposed to love him,” the cat countered.

Allison frowned, turning to follow after Derek’s and Stiles’ apparitions. She slowed her steps when she saw the dining table set, Stiles sitting at the head with a veil covering his features.

The caretaker dropped a letter and rose on the empty plate before Stiles.

Stiles barely reacted, turning away from the creature. His hand weakly reached for the flower, picking it up to examine. He twisted the stem in his fingers, looking at its beautiful petals. His other hand picked up the letter. His eyes scanned the parchment for a moment before he closed them.

“I don’t know if I still hate you,” Stiles uttered, his heart swelling. “I don’t know what to feel anymore, Derek.” He folded the letter together, ignoring the words Derek had written on them. He took the rose in his hand, dropping the letter to the ground as he walked up the stairs and towards their bedroom.

“That was the day his heart burst,” the cat explained to Allison.

Allison’s gaze narrowed as she watched Stiles ascending the steps to the upper level. She could feel the curse slowly encompassing Stiles. “His heart didn’t burst,” she faintly stated. “He was cursed to die.”

“Impossible,” the dog countered. “No one would hurt Lord von Hale, for fear of his husband.”

“There is one who would,” Allison angrily stated. “Julia Baccari has had her hand in this.” She followed after Stiles, determined to face him.

~*~

Shadows roiled around the balcony, Stiles’ ghostly appearance lingering despite the illusion crumbling. The wind was howling, shadows billowing around them as the painted realm blurred with reality.

Stiles wore an artfully tailored outfit, one that spoke to the height of wealth Derek had managed to obtain for them. He wore a black veil, different metals and jewels decorating the detailed edges that fixed it into his hair. He was wearing the same outfit Allison had found his corpse in.

Allison stood behind Stiles, waiting for him to notice her before she spoke.

“I mistook you for another,” Stiles finally uttered, his voice sorrowful as it fluttered across the wind.

“For Derek?” Allison asked.

Stiles nodded as he continued to look elsewhere.

“What are you?” Allison questioned, unsure how she was now seeing a version of Stiles as calm as the memories. “You seem like a spirit, but … ”

Stiles looked down at his hands, knowing that he could see through himself if he tried hard enough. “I am … sadness.” He turned to look at Allison. “I was in a deep, dark sleep—for so long, and only now have awoken. When you braved the untamed portrait of my world, it was as if I could breathe again.” He startled some, as if he was remembering something long forgotten. “Tell me, how is Derek? Healthy? Does he fare well?”

Allison frowned. She could tell that Stiles’ mind was fractured, remembering different parts of a conversation too late or too soon.

“I thought he had returned. To me,” Stiles confessed before Allison could answer, too disappointed with their reality. “I had ... hoped it was him.”

“He said he was keeping his vow,” Allison explained. “The one he promised to keep.”

“He promised to love me,” Stiles replied. “And he had … he had,” he barely spoke as he looked out over the balcony, his gaze following the trees’ sway.

“Now please, tell me, how is Derek?” Stiles asked.

“The Lady of Glass is after him,” Allison frankly stated.

“That devil,” Stiles sorrowfully uttered. “It’s my fault—Derek made the pact with her because of me.”

“Derek made the pact with her to regain his standing,” Allison started.

“He wished for eternity,” Stiles corrected Allison. “For us both, so that we would not know a day without each other. He wished for gold and riches so we could marry.”

Allison’s brow furrowed. “Hasn’t she broken her pact with your death?”

Stiles looked down at the rose in his hands, his fingers caressing the soft petals. “I don’t know, anymore,” he admitted. “She deals in contracts—word-traps and duels of wits. But the only stake she’ll have is a human soul. And she wants Derek to put his own on the line.”

Allison turned to look at the shadows of the dog and cat, seeing them lingering by the entrance to the manor. She knew they were lesser demons, creatures that could still be controlled by Stiles in life. “But what about yours?” She asked, looking to Stiles.

“Mine?” Stiles quizzically pondered. “My soul is … ” He shook his head. “I’m bound here—for Derek uttered those words as a vow to me. And the Lady of Glass enjoys twisting words into a reality.”

“She grants what you wish, not what you want,” Allison repeated Laura’s words.

“She knows Derek would do what he could for me,” Stiles explained. “I must confess, I don’t know what to expect anymore.”

“Is she keeping you here for another reason?” Allison asked.

“I believe she is,” Stiles offered. “Derek had wished for us to have immortality together, but … Julia Baccari twisted that too.” He turned to look at Allison.

Stiles’ skin was white, blackened make-up smudges around his eyes, tears staining his cheeks. The veil was long, reaching his chest as it tried to hide him from view. The only vibrant color was the bloomed flower in Stiles’ hands.

“Derek asked for that rose,” Allison explained as she nodded towards the flower in Stiles’ hands.

Stiles looked down at the flower. “If I give it to you, I’m afraid I’ll disappear,” he stated. “I fear there will be cold and darkness, until there is nothing. Is… is that what Derek wants for me?”

Allison hesitated before shaking her head. “He thinks you’re alive. He doesn’t know about your death.”

Stiles’ features twisted together. “Don’t tell him,” he almost begged. “He’d only blame himself.”

Allison sighed. “I think he is hoping you’ll ask for him back.”

Stiles released a shaky breath. “I never wanted him to leave. I only wanted … I wanted him to love me again.”

“He didn’t stop,” Allison explained. “Julia Baccari turned his heart to stone—made his feelings vanish. He was trying to find a way out of it—to be with you as he originally promised.” She took a step towards Stiles, reaching a hand out to offer Derek’s letter. “You never read the whole thing, did you?”

Stiles turned to look at Allison, his gaze dropping to the letter displayed before him. He reached an unsteady hand out to take hold of the item. He recognized Derek’s penmanship—even after all these years, he remembered the way Derek would artfully curve the ‘m’ and curl the ‘y’ in his name.

_ My dearest Mieczysław, _

_ Were I only as skilled with words as I am with my blade. I would not be the man you loved, regardless of such failings, yet I wish to give you all that you deserve and desire. I fear that I’ll never be able to tell you how dear you are to me, now that an icy void grips hold of my heart. _

_ I see how you now look at me, and how you wither. Because of me. _

_ I cannot help change this fractured life we share now, but I believe I can cease causing you harm. _

_ This letter and rose are my farewell. May you live in health, and remember but the good times—when my heart beat proudly in your care, where it was meant to remain until my dying day. _

_ For I am yours, always. _

_ Derek _

Tears fell from Stiles’ eyes, vanishing as the wind caught them. “You fool,” he weakly uttered as he clutched the letter tightly. “I only ever wanted you.”

Allison frowned some, wishing there was more she could do. But even a witcher couldn’t reverse death. “He still thinks of you,” she offered.

Stiles pressed the letter to his chest, looking up at Allison. “Where is he?” He desperately asked. “I wish to see him.”

“I can’t bring you from here,” Allison attempted to explain. “Your soul is tied to this place—trapped here.”

Stiles closed his eyes tightly. “Please, I need to see him,” he pleaded. “I wish to see him—to look into his eyes once more.”

Stiles thoughts were loudly rushing around them both, memories and thoughts that had nothing but the estate’s walls to hear them for so long. But the last part was clearest for Allison to hear.

_ Derek, I wish to be with Derek. And to gaze into his eyes … those eyes that the devil would be proud to have. _

“You’ve recreated your life through paintings,” Allison started, interrupting Stiles’ overpowering voice. “If you paint me something with you both, the rose included, and I can give that to him as an incentive to return.”

Stiles bit down on his lip. “I ... ” He shook his head. He held the rose against his chest, wishing he could take back the past decades. “Give him the portrait from our anniversary,” he finally stated. “You’ll find what you need in it.”

Allison hesitated. “Stiles, I’m sorry,” she replied. “If I could help you, I would.”

Stiles shook his head. “Only Derek can help me.”

~*~

Allison rearranged the saddle bags as she hooked her sword back onto Roach’s saddle. She paused when she reached for the rolled up canvas. She turned the delicate item in her hands, slowly unrolling the painting. She drew in a steady breath, seeing for the first time what the portrait looked like. She had been unwilling to look at it when Stiles pointed it out to her—a rolled up item laid out on the bed.

The painting was a portrait of Stiles and Derek.

Stiles was sitting, looking up adoringly at Derek, his hands folded onto his knees. Derek was standing, his hand resting along the back of the Stiles’ chair, his head tilted to look down at Stiles. The violet rose was painted to be in Derek’s hand, the flower’s petals delicately resting in Derek’s palm as he offered the flower to Stiles.

Allison could see the love they held for one another, and she hoped she could give them the happy ending they deserved. It was what swayed her into refusing to take the flower from Stiles, the one item tethering him to this world still. She refused to free the cat and dog apparitions, knowing that they lied about being merciful to Stiles.

Instead, Allison kept her promise to Lydia and left Stiles attached to this plane of existence. She would return with Lydia in the following days, determined to see if they could do anything for Stiles—foolishly hoping their combined abilities would save him.

If there was a place for Derek and Stiles, it would be inside those walls. But at least a place for them existed still.

~*~

“Interesting place,” Derek commented as he descended the steps towards the plateau. He looked about them, noticing the temple’s state of disrepair. “Not the homiest.” The moonlight was beautiful, dull in its brightness but still beautiful. Even he could admit that, regardless of the emptiness he felt.

Allison looked at Derek, pulling her gaze away from the full moon. “It wasn’t me that chose it,” she tiredly explained.

“I guessed as much,” Derek replied. He took the necessary steps to get closer to Allison. “As long as we’re here,” he sighed. “You owe me something.”

Allison’s brow furrowed as she held up the rolled up canvas for Derek to take. “As promised, I fulfilled your final wish.”

Derek’s features furrowed, pained by the reality that Allison had managed to fulfill such an extreme wish.

“I’m sorry,” Allison offered once Derek took the canvas. “Stiles painted it,” she explained as Derek unrolled the canvas to inspect the paint. “It was the last thing keeping him attached to this world.”

Derek looked up at Allison, his gaze narrowing in confusion. “What?”

“Stiles painted it as a way to let you know he still loved you, despite it all,” Allison replied.

“No,” Derek sharply stated, taking a step closer to Allison. “What do you mean keeping him attached to this world?”

Allison frowned, realizing that her initial assumptions were correct—Derek didn’t know of Stiles’ fate. “He … he’s dead.”

Derek shook his head. “No,” he argued, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine how Julia could have broken his wish. “That’s not— he was supposed to be immortal.” He looked at Allison, sharply demanding, “How did he die?”

“His heart burst,” Allison forcefully stated.

Derek shook his head.

“Lydia told me it was after you left,” Allison offered. “That he had locked himself away, and when she found him the caretaker chased her off. She was keeping the manor safe ever since, to protect Stiles from anyone that would harm his spirit.”

“He was supposed to be alive,” Derek angrily stated, turning to look at Allison. “Alive and healthy, that was the agreement.” For the first time in decades, Derek was certain he could feel something twisting inside him. The impossible was unfolding.

“You never said alive,” Julia’s voice answered Derek’s words. She smiled when Derek and Allison turned to look at her. “You said, and I quote,” she cleared her throat, enabling herself to speak in a mimic of Derek’s voice. “ _ A life with Stiles—for Stiles. An eternity for us both. _ ”

“You twisted that,” Derek angrily stated.

“How do you feel, Lord von Hale?” Julia suddenly asked with a smile as she folded her hands together. “Any  _ better _ ? Any  _ lighter  _ of heart?”

“What did you do?” Derek demanded, his hand pressing against his chest as he felt a twisting pain carving its way through him. A sharp burn consumed his heart, like a house set ablaze with flames licking the walls as it threatened to burn everything in reach.

“I did nothing, darling,” Julia snickered. “You made your wish, now you have it,” she laughed.

“What did you do to Stiles?” Derek loudly demanded this time. “You’re a cheat!” He accused her when she didn’t answer him.

“A cheat?” Julia incredulously snapped. “Oh, no, darling. This was all you. You made the pact to have an eternity with him,” she gestured towards the canvas painting Allison had given Derek. “And that’s what you hold in your hands. A timeless canvas for you both to share, crafted by Stiles’ own hand.”

Derek looked down at the canvas, eyes tracing Stiles’ features with his gaze.

“I numbed your heart, Derek,” Julia continued. “But  _ you _ turned it into a stone.”

Derek looked at Julia, the grief spreading through his heart slowly started to turn into anger.

“He spent his final days wishing you’d come back for him,” Julia cackled. “Even though you left him, he tried reaching out for you to come back. He was a clever boy, but he still couldn’t escape.”

Julia allowed Stiles’ voice to echo out from her prison for him. “ _ Derek, I wish to be with Derek. And to gaze into his eyes … those eyes that the devil would be proud to have. _ ”

Derek started towards Julia. “You evil—”

“Ah-ah,” Julia tut-tutted at Derek, her gesture conjuring forth a shadowy wraith. The shadow’s scream was familiar—it was the one Allison had heard echoing through the manor’s estate when she first arrived.

“Stiles!” Derek yelled as he ran towards him, realizing it was another trick on Julia’s part when he fell through the shadowy apparition, like walking through smoke. “Your pact was for me!”

“It was for your soul,” Julia sharply answered. “And whether you’ll agree to admit it or not, Stiles is a part of that. So I’ll be taking my payment now.”

“You cheated—”

“I  _ never _ cheat,” Julia nearly roared, angered by Derek’s insistent nature.

“You did!” Derek yelled back at her. “You first took Laura, then turned me into  _ this _ . Stiles is dead—that was never part of the agreement!”

“You should have thought of what was at stake, Lord von Hale,” Julia practically roared.

Stiles released another pained yell, his hands clutching at the veil that covered his head, his fingernails digging into the sheer material. His body was ensnared in a black flame that burned him from the inside, his screams doing nothing.

“You killed him,” Derek yelled at Julia. “How is that not cheating? I wished for an eternity—”

“And he perfected that portrait to complete your third wish, he created your eternity together,” Julia snapped. “I kept his spirit alive all this time as an investment, you stupid man. You never asked for an eternity together. You had every chance as he roamed those ruined halls of the manor as a wraith. And now? Now you have your eternity in that painting—so there is no more use for his soul to linger.”

Stiles’ scream echoed off the cliff’s walls.

“Stop!” Derek yelled at Julia, nearly begging her.

“Your heart isn’t stone anymore, von Hale,” Julia disparaged. “Feel that pain? That’s your guilt at failing your beloved.  _ Again _ .”

“Take my soul and let him live!” Derek yelled at her.

Stiles’ screams ceased, his body limply collapsing against the stone floor. His features flushed, his body flooding with the life it had been robbed of so long ago.

Derek kelt on his knees beside Stiles, his trembling hand moving the veil to look at him. “Stiles,” he softly uttered his name, his fingertips gently touching Stiles’ cheek.

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Julia smugly confessed. “A von Hale soul has to be one handed over willingly. And your family’s always been a challenge—but not you.”

Derek ignored Julia as he lifted Stiles into his arms, holding him close as he cradled Stiles’ head in the crook of his arm. He brushed his fingertips along Stiles’ cheeks. “Stiles, I’m sorry,” he softly apologized.

Stiles stirred, his eyes blinking open as he looked up at Derek. He drew in a steady breath, confused at what was happening around him. “Derek … ” He spoke his name with joy. He reached his hand up to touch Derek’s face, fingertips brushing through Derek’s beard as a fond smiled pulled at his lips. He noticed for the first time the scar that cut down into Derek’s beard to run along his cheek, his fingers tracing it for a moment. “This is real. You came back,” he choked off a weak sob before pressing a kiss to Derek’s lips.

Allison looked at Julia, catching sight of the woman walking towards them.

“A touching reunion, truly,” Julia stated in annoyance.

Stiles startled at Julia’s voice, pulling away from Derek’s kiss.

Derek began to stand, helping Stiles to rise with him. He placed a protective arm around Stiles, situating himself as a shield against Julia.

“But I didn’t come here for this.”

“You can’t have him!” Stiles snapped at her, daring to try and get in front of Derek.

“Stiles stop,” Derek sternly uttered.

“No,” Stiles argued. “I just got you back, I’m not losing you.”

“How sentimental,” Julia sneered. “If it would make you feel better, I plan on taking your soul too once I reap his.”

Stiles tightened his hold on Derek.

“You can’t do that,” Derek vehemently replied as he took a step back, prompting Stiles to follow his motions.

“You told me to take your soul instead of his,” Julia began, taking slow steps towards them. “And I will. But he made a deal with me, too.”

Stiles’ body became rigid at Julia’s words. “I begged for him back, that’s not a deal.”

“I asked you what you wanted,” Julia countered as she looked at Stiles.

_ Derek, I wish to be with Derek. And to gaze into his eyes … those eyes that the devil would be proud to have. _

Stiles’ voice echoed loudly once more across the temple’s ruins.

“I asked what you would give,” Julia continued, her features angered.

_ My life without him isn’t a life. Anything to have him back. _

“You twisted my mind,” Stiles yelled at her.

“And I won,” Julia stated with a satisfied smile.

“Wait,” Allison loudly interrupted as she took a step towards Julia.

Julia turned her glare on Allison. “Careful, witcher,” she seethed.

“You grant wishes, don’t you?” Allison knew she caught Julia’s interests when the woman kept her distance from Stiles and Derek. “Let me play you for their souls, with mine as an added stake,” she baited her.

“You think your soul holds as much for me as theirs?” Julia incredulously asked. “I have had a von Hale soul from every generation, and he’s the last one.”

“You don’t refuse deals, Lady of Glass,” Allison pressed in argument. “Give me a chance to beat you, and my soul will be added to the pile. A witcher’s soul, a von Hale soul, and an innocent soul. But if I win, you release us, and Stiles stays alive like any other human.

Julia carefully regarded Allison, pursing her lips some when she realized the witcher had phrased her wish just right in order to avoid misinterpretation.

“You can’t say no to that, can you?”

Julia forcefully smiled. She couldn’t resist such a challenge. “Very well,” she uttered. “What do you propose we play? Gwent?”

Allison rolled her eyes at that. “What about a … challenge. You’ve seen me do the impossible.”

“Very well,” Julia agreed. “But we shall do this  _ my  _ way.” She clapped her hands together, calling forth smoke to rise from the temple’s floor.

Allison hesitated, her gaze looking at Stiles and Derek. “Alright.”

“Witcher,” Stiles caught Allison’s attention as the shadows started to rise and billowing around her feet. “She deals in illusions, remember that.”

And in a moment, all was quiet in the temple’s ruins.

~*~

Derek and Stiles stood beside each other, clutched to one another as they waited for the inevitable.

“Do you think she can win?” Stiles quietly asked Derek just as the sun started to rise over the water. He watched as the sun inched up higher in the sky, unable to believe he was witnessing this again—that his heart was beating again as he held Derek in his arms.

“I think she’s accomplished many impossible tasks already,” Derek replied, tightening his hold on Stiles. “And if she fails … we have each other now.”

“It’s not enough,” Stiles stated as he closed his eyes. He pressed his cheek against Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m … I’m sorry, Stiles, for everything,” Derek confessed. “This is my fault.”

Stiles pulled back to look at Derek. “I would be long dead by now if you hadn’t done what you did,” he admitted. “I would have married that princess and been miserable.”

“I made you miserable,” Derek started to argue.

Stiles pressed his fingers over Derek’s lips to stop him. “Don’t talk like that. You didn’t … I thought you stopped loving me. I didn’t know what plagued you until she came for me.” He shook his head. “Everything you did was for me—for us. I would never hate you for that.”

Derek pressed their foreheads together, drawing in a steady breath. “For what it’s worth … you always had my heart—always.”

“I know,” Stiles replied, placing his hands against Derek’s shoulders as he steadied himself into their kiss.

A soft grunt sounded from behind them, startling both men to turn and look at the newcomer.

Allison tumbled to a stop as she gained her balance, annoyed that Baccari had dropped her through a portal. She straightened out her armor and scabbards, attempting to stand without the dizzying effects that followed her whenever a portal was used.

“You’re alive,” Stiles stated in disbelief.

Allison shuffled her weight some, grunting in agreement. “I don’t know how you managed to outwit her for almost a century,” she uttered.

Derek faintly snorted. “You did fine.”

“Clearly,” Allison replied.

“Are we free?” Stiles eagerly asked.

Allison nodded. “She wasn’t happy about it, but she agreed.”

“What was the challenge?” Derek asked.

“A riddle,” Allison shook her head. “A fucking riddle almost cost me my life.”

“But you succeeded,” Stiles pointed out.

“And I’m going to ask you both, to never make a wish again,” Allison stated. “And to never ask me for a favor—ever.”

Stiles laughed at that, moving to hug Allison. “Anything for you, witcher,” he softly chuckled.

Allison accepted Stiles’ hug, pleased that she managed to outwit Julia’s riddle.

“Thank you,” Derek offered in gratitude as he took a step closer to them. “You saved us.”

Allison nodded. “I gave you your lives back,” she corrected him. “You’re both safe—be free.”

“She took everything I loved, all that I held dear,” Derek stated as he looked at Stiles. “But you gave me back the most important thing.”

“You have your heart back,” Allison replied.

Derek reached a hand out to take Stiles’ hand. He smiled when Stiles accepted his gesture and moved to stand beside him again.

Stiles hugged Derek’s arm to his chest as he chastely kissed the corner of Derek’s lips. He looked to Allison, offering her a kind smile. “I’ll never forget what you did for us, witcher.”

“Thank you, for everything,” Derek added. He took one lingering glance at the sun, feeling the growing warmth against his skin for the first time in decades. His heart swelled with the weight of knowing it was Stiles’ hand in his own. His soul no longer void of emotion.

He had a heart of stone no longer.


End file.
